What Might Have Been
by HaloNoir
Summary: Beth and Daryl are separated but determined to find one another again. In the mean time, they sustain themselves with their hopes and dreams and fears of What Might Have Been.


Daryl could feel his lungs burning, his breathing ragged and uneven and matched by the rest of the group. They'd made it out of Terminus. Who knew. He caught sight of Rick bent over at the waist, gulping down air. Well, Daryl thought, he guessed Rick had known. They really hadn't known who they were fucking with. Damn Termites. Rick caught his eye and flashed him a smile, the kind he hadn't seen on the older man in months. A "good day to be alive" kind of smile. Damn straight.

Carol clapped him on the back and he turned to grin at her. She was still streaked with mud and grime and she'd never looked better. She also wasn't out of breath like the rest of them. Probably helped that she hadn't been stuck in a tin can for the last week.

"My hero." Daryl told her, clapping her hard on the arm. She smiled at him bashfully and, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled her into a hug. It felt weird to him, unnatural. But when he stood back he could see it had been the right thing to do, Carol smiling at him gently, touched. Beth would have been proud, a little voice that sounded remarkably like the Greene girl whispered in the back of his mind.

The group started to congratulate themselves on their escape. Carl wrapped his arms around Michonne. Rick took the time to look at the lil' asskicker properly. And Daryl stood on the outside looking in. They weren't done yet. After a few minutes, people picked up their few belongings and gathered round. Daryl and Rick had already spoken. Daryl hoped Rick still had some good speeches up his sleeve: he was gonna need them yet.

Rick cleared his throat, ran a hand over his hair and called their attention as he looked at the tip of his boots.

"Now, I know we're all tired, but we gotta get our heads on straight now." Rick surveyed the battered group, "We gotta find shelter. Some food. And then we got some other business to deal with." His eyes flicked over to Daryl and Maggie, "Cos like I said before: nothing's more important than the group. And right now, we're missing someone. Beth. She's been taken from us. And we're gonna get her back." There was a beat and Daryl knew what Rick was thinking: at the very least, they were going to find out what had happened to her. That was good enough for Daryl.

The group murmured their general agreement. Carol rubbed Maggie's arm affectionately and Glenn took up the older Greene's hand. And Daryl felt a flare of annoyance. Where had Maggie been when Beth was being kidnapped, huh? He shook it off. No point in dwelling. Beth wouldn't want that.

Abraham's little group were the only ones who didn't look convinced and Daryl saw the redhead arguing with Rick, but knew the mission was safe from the set of the sheriff's shoulders. People started moving off, settling back into their little travelling groups. Daryl dropped back, taking up the rear. Michonne's tall form led them off into the lengthening shadows of the woods.

The bolt slid into place with a hard, tooth-rattling clang and Beth wrapped her arms around herself. It was still early autumn, but you wouldn't have known it from the chill in the Hospital. Modern hospital buildings hadn't been designed for a world without electricity and it showed: damp patches stretched from floor to ceiling, the window frames stood empty. The only new addition made for the new world were the locks crudely fixed to the doors of the "cells" of the east wing.

Beth grabbed the thin blanket from the cot and wrapped it round her shoulders before she peered out of the window, as she always did at the end of a shift, and wondered yet again, whether she could survive the fall. A soft tapping shook her out of her reverie and she scuttled over to the wall across from her bed, crouching down.

"I'm here." She whispered, laying her hand flat against the plaster, where it had worn thin and grey. Barely a centimetre between her and the next room. She strained for the voice, hoping it was who she thought it was, hoping she hadn't been betrayed.

"Good. We live to fight another day, I guess." Beth sighed and relaxed. She almost smiled. Noah was the only thing keeping her sane.

"Are you okay?"

"As good as I can be," he said, and Beth imagined the taut expression he'd wear, "How's your face?" he asked. Beth almost winced at the mere mention of the bruise and cut across the left hand side of her face.

"Not too bad today." She replied. Beth desperately wanted to talk about what she knew Noah was thinking about too, but they'd both decided it was too risky. If they got caught just jawing, that'd be bad enough, but they'd catch a beating, most likely, and that would be the end of it. After all, they were a limited resource. But if they got talking about escaping? Well, that didn't bear thinking about. Beth shuddered. All you had to do was think about Alice and Mickey who'd tried a few days after Beth was brought to the Hospital. They were still walking between the two fences that stood between the lab rats and freedom. Aimless and jawless for their troubles.

Beth knew she had to say something, though, knew that she needed confirmation. The image of Maggie pushed in, and Daryl too, before she could block them out. She needed to get out of here. Screw the system. Her family needed her.

"So, tomorrow?" She asked tentatively. There was a long pause.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." Beth heard the scrape of Noah's feet moving away from the wall and took the hint. Her bones ached from the day's chores, but not nearly so much as her heart did.

The group lucked out, in the end. They found an old hunting cabin. It was only small, meant for a small family, three or four people at most. But there was floor space enough for everyone, when the watch was taken out of the equation.

They found a few dusty cans of spaghetti-os to supplement the two lean and sinewy rabbits Daryl had managed to catch on the road. Just enough for a handful of bites a person. Not much, but better than what was offered back at Terminus.

Daryl shrugged off the thought, as he stubbed his toe against the bottom step of the cabin. Trying not to think about Terminus, though, only seemed to make him think of the other thing he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. He gave the step a harder kick and regretted it, the sound echoing weirdly in the still night and the trees. He hoped he hadn't woken anyone up, though he supposed that was the least of his worries.

Because he was focusing so hard on not focusing on anything, he failed to hear the shuffling feet behind him until the large hand landed on his shoulder. Daryl spun, reaching for the crossbow.

"Whoa!" Rick raised his hands in front of him defensively, "Sorry, man. You okay?"

Daryl tried to compose himself, his heart clutching wildly in his chest, and nodded at his friend.

"Sorry. Was just thinkin'." He said at last, when the blood stopped pounding in his ears, the small night sounds picking up again.

"I can guess about what," Rick said, standing alongside, "but thought you might like to get some rest."

"Shift's over?"

"Near enough." Daryl didn't argue, though he'd like to have, he sensed that Rick needed some thinking time himself.

"Mind if I sleep on the porch?"

"No, suit yourself. It's standing room only inside, any way."

"Thanks, man." Daryl pulled the strap of the bow over his head as he walked up the steps. The air was mild and there wouldn't be many more nights like this, when he could sleep under the stars. He felt better outdoors, any way. Easier to breathe. Easier to make a clean getaway.

Only place he'd felt safe inside was the prison, and that had taken a while to get used to. Well, his mind offered traitorously, the prison and the funeral home. The house had been smaller, easier to secure than the prison. But that wasn't the reason, Daryl knew, that it had felt like a home. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair and candlelight in his mind's eye.

Daryl decided to focus on the stars instead. He didn't know any of the fancy names for the constellations, but he knew their shapes in a way that only a childhood under the night sky could provide.

As he drifted to sleep, he tried not to think of the ways that he had failed her, the ways in which things could have been different. Tried not to wonder whether, somewhere, Beth Greene was looking up at the same stars with her bright eyes.

Beth, wrapped her blanket around herself tightly, cocooning herself in the thin hospital sheets, her hair spilling wildly, anything to keep warm. The damp was in her bones. She thought it might not just be the damp and the seventh floor breeze but maybe the blood from the day, too. She wriggled to turn her head to the window. It was her bane that hole in the wall, but her salvation too. She could see out into the woods and Georgia hills, remind herself that the world was bigger than any system the people here could create. That out there, somewhere, her friends and family were still together or looking for each other. She dared to hope that maybe they were looking for her too. Something told her Daryl would be, if no one else. Wasn't that strange, she thought, that she should have so much confidence in the redneck she hardly knew than even in her own sister? She tried to tamp down her own expectations, but as she watched the stars still resolutely twinkling, she felt a firm resolve from somewhere deep inside her soul that told her that she wasn't wrong about Daryl Dixon and that she could make it out of here.

She wouldn't think about tomorrow, though, The plan was set, the ball already rolling. It wouldn't help to dwell. Instead, she let herself slip into semi sleep and thought of the funeral home and her sister and Daryl and dreamt of all the things that might have been.


End file.
